Jisung pressed his chin against his threaded hands, eyebrows furrowed almost painfully. He felt at a loss – completely useless. All he could do until Seungmin and Hyunjin got back and the Allied Packs came to meet him here was sit around and think, ponder every little possibility that could potentially occur.
A subtle throb blossomed at his temples. He exhaled and shook his head; maybe he should go find Minho. They had... a lot to talk about. He still didn't know where they stood, what they were – and it was only going to get harder to talk about it the closer to war they got.
He ran a hand along his face until it combed through the messy hair atop his head. He nodded once to himself and pushed himself from his seat, clutching his desk, suddenly lightheaded. He blinked in an attempt to clear his vision, sucking n a deep breath and shaking his head.
He was really getting tired of being human. How much longer would he have to endure this, he wondered?
Ignoring his swimming vision he stumbled away from his desk before he straightened, pulling open the door. Several of his packmates travelled the halls in front of his office, and though some bowed their heads in respect, most simply ignored him.
His fists clenched at his sides as he headed towards the packhouse exit; his father would have exuded much more respect. No, he would have demanded it. But... he'd also earned it. What had Jisung done? Failed in killing the Vampire King, taken a vampire as his Mate, gotten his packmates killed, trusted all the wrong people?
Shaking his head, he clenched his jaw. He did not know how he'd ever even managed to convince a few of them that he was worthy. He was probably the worst Alpha they'd ever had. His vision clouded over, and he walked, as though on auto-pilot, until the cool night air caressed his face.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply; his thoughts cleared, just like that. It was strange, however, to not be able to smell the myriad of different scents lingering in the wind. He felt defenseless, standing there. Not in his entire life had he ever felt so defenseless, so hopeless.
And yet he felt as though he deserved this defenselessness.
Maybe this was how everyone felt as he failed them one by one – failing to protect them, failing to be the defense they needed. His heart ached and he clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply through his nose.
His eyes snapped open, a sudden chill racing down his spine. His eyes narrowed, though his vision was incredibly limited now in the dark. He squinted; was that a silhouette? The longer he stared, the more he realized that it was, indeed, the shape of a person – headed right for him at incredible speeds.
His eyes widened, his body jumping into rapid, practiced motions. Except, this time, there was no surge of power and heat as he morphed into his wolf. Even as he raised his arms to shield his neck, the most exposed part of his body, he was too slow.
He knew without a doubt – without so much as needing his usual instincts – that he was dealing with a vampire. Too slow. TOO SLOW. His mind was dozens of seconds ahead of his body, which seemed sluggish, unable to follow.
The impact that hit him was strong enough to send him flying backwards, his back slamming into a nearby tree. His limbs locked up, his body tensing, his vision swimming. Ah, he thought, blinking slowly, a warm, thick liquid travelling down the back of his head, trickling into his shirt.
It was uncomfortable, but he hardly registered the sensation as the figure slowed and came into focus. Or, rather, as in focus as it could become with the dimness of his eyes. He blinked slowly once, twice, and by the time he blinked thrice, he vaguely registered the flash of fangs as moonlight caught them.
Vampire.
A groan escaped his lips as his head lolled to one side, blood clinging to his skin as it continued to pour from the open wound at the back of his head. He knew he was missing a crucial detail, failing to think of something he should have. But he was just... so tired.
He knew he should have felt something – fear, perhaps. And as those fangs grew ever closer, as though in slow motion, his eyes slowly shuttered to a close. He was barely conscious enough to even realize that the impact he'd been waiting for never came.
~#~#~#~#~#~
Minho felt crazed, as though something within had snapped the moment he'd lain his eyes on the scene unfolding before him. Or maybe it was when the scent of blood he remembered so clearly met his nose — registering, and then recognizing.
Snap.
He lunged forward, an animalistic growl ripping from his throat as he flung himself forward at a speed he hadn't known he was capable of. Something red, hot, and painful blossomed in his chest, expanding until it threatened to swallow him whole.
And then he was seeing red.
His fangs flashed as he grappled onto the figure looming over his Mate. His Mate. Brief thoughts flitted in and out of his mind, each one leaving him more vengeful than before. The vampire he was dealing with was fast, experienced.
Somehow, that fact seemed minor, unimportant.
The scent of blood hung thick in the air, tantalizing his tongue, deepening the haze around his vision. He attacked again with a tenacity he didn't know he had, a fire he didn't know had been lit. The stain of his love's blood on the blades of grass – individual blades of grass he could see clearly through his reddened vision – only served to spur him on.
The vampire in front of him stared at him with a star-struck expression. "How... How are you..." His voice was low and confused, though not at a loss. He snarled, crouching low to the ground.
Before the vampire could so much as shift his weight Minho was upon him again, almost faster than light itself. His body acted of its own accord, faster than his mind could keep up with, though his thoughts never stopped racing. Never stopped raging.
With a violent wrench and a startling crack, the vampire's arm was discarded, thrown to the side as though it were nothing more than a piece of trash. He screamed – oh, yes, he screamed – and the sound was like music to Minho's ears.
A grimace curled his lips as he stared at the man's agonized face. Something within him thrummed, purring in joy at the dark, oozing blood that gushed from the wound. His eyes narrowed, calculating.
His already bloodied hand raised as he held the squirming vampire by the shoulder several feet off the ground, his arms barely quivering beneath the strain. He felt invincible. He certainly felt no remorse – not a single shred of empathy – as he plunged his hand straight into the vampire's chest, ripping out his heart.
His face was pale as he stared on in horror as Minho slowly – so, so slowly – squeezed. And then the man went limp. Minho dropped his body to the ground, crumpling in on itself in a heap of skin and bones, crimson blood oozing out onto the already darkened grass. He let the crushed heart plop right down next to it, turning away.
Jisung's eyes were closed, and yet he could still smell the blood staining the air. His rage had not subsided. He hadn't done enough to compensate for this state his love was in. Gently, so gently it was almost startling compared to the blood staining his clothes, splattered across his face.
Startling, against his crimson eyes.
He walked in silence, the scenery unfolding around him faster than it should have. Was he running? He didn't know. His mind was numb to all else other than the man in his arms, the man he'd grown to love.
With or without the Mating bond that kept them tied to one another, he was sure he would have fallen for Han Jisung all over again regardless.
He didn't know where he was going, only that his feet were leading him somewhere. His mind was focused solely on one thing, and it would not stray, even for a moment. Eventually, he found himself in the pack infirmary, familiar faces kept inside.
They all looked up, blatant shock painted across each and every one of their faces as he walked in calmly and placed Jisung down on one of the empty beds. After the nurses had treated his head, he'd take him... back to his... room...
His knees caved in the moment Jisung was safely tucked into the bed, the redness fading from his vision. Only once it was completely clear did he realize he'd just killed a man.
And he'd enjoyed it.
A/N: Happy New Year, my loves! Truth be told, although I've been super lazy for the entirety of my winter break (apart from when I'm at work), binge-watching all the sports anime I've ever watched, not really writing at all, I think my motivation is slowly starting to come back. I'm starting to feel like myself again, which is a relief. I was worried for a good while.
I want you guys to hold me accountable! If I don't update, pester me. Y'all need to shove me when I throw myself into a ditch, because I need to pick my damn self up and get back on my feet. I'm serious -- I will take all the comments you throw at me, telling me I'm late on an update (I mean, unless I expressly state why I'm not updating, for example, school).
Q: What's your biggest New Year's resolution?
A: To be kinder to -- and more honest with -- myself and those around me. My life has kind of hit a rough patch this year, and I let it beat me for a (long) time. I guess you could say I got depressed for a little while. Slowly, I'm getting out of it, and I know it's going to take some work. I might as well be honest and tell you that, on top of starting the real IB program and its shitty, hard-ass curriculum and having a job that gave me way too many hours for a while, my parents got separated. That's an issue I'm going to have to deal with slowly but surely, because I know I can't let this change who I am as a person -- for the worst. So, now that we're done being deep, see you next time~
Lots of love,
~Emilie
P.S: The update schedule will resume with a minor change -- Tuesday updates will be moved to Wednesdays just to secure the fact that I'll be fully able to write (I never work on Tuesdays, so).